


A Meeting of the Moms

by Lady_Saddlebred



Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [33]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Saddlebred/pseuds/Lady_Saddlebred
Summary: Jenny comes for a holiday visit





	

Title: A Meeting of the Moms 

Author: Lady_Saddlebred (cdelapin@yahoo.com)

Archive: Yes, please

Category: Q/O, Alternate Reality

Rating: PG 

Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me in School 

 

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owned everything, until he sold it to Disney. We own nothing, just playing in his playground.

 

Special thanks to Katbear and Merry Amelie and Helen, les betas par excellence! Any mistakes are mine.

 

Previous fics in series: all on AO3 website:  
Early Admission  
Lessons They Never Taught Me in School  
Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus  
That Which Does Not Go to School  
Rainy Day Recess  
Of Popcorn and Pine Trees  
Fit to Print  
Daffodils  
Spring Cotillion  
Is That a Lightsaber I See Before Me?  
A Pen for Your Thoughts  
When I Was Your Age  
Partners  
Mum’s the Word  
Best Laid Plans  
An Apple for Teacher  
What’s for Supper?  
Pacifier  
Snow Angels  
One Man’s Junk  
May I Have This Dance?  
Four Green Fields  
Too Darned Hot  
Pomp and Circumstances  
Summertime Blues  
Blow the Man Down  
Post-Graduate Studies  
Crossing the Pond  
Moving  
Picnic in the Park  
Family Matters

 

~*~*~*~

 

The phone rang in Quinn’s office as he was preparing for the morning’s first lab. “Biology Department, Professor Donovan speaking.”

 

“Hello, darling! I thought I’d ring up and see how you and Ben were settling in.” 

 

Quinn grinned and reached to close his office door, for a bit of privacy. “Cheers, Mum. Good to hear your voice. We’re grand, thanks. We’re almost finished unpacking boxes.”

 

“And how are you getting along with his family?”

 

“His parents are nice people, salt of the earth. He’s a building contractor, owns his own business. She’s a homemaker.” 

 

“Isn’t there a brother, too?”

 

“Aye, there is. Seven years older than Ben. Married with one son, about Donal's age. The wife’s nice enough, but himself…” He didn’t want to get into it, especially with his mother. In some ways, her own circumstances hadn’t been all that dissimilar. 

 

“I take it he’s not exactly… on board yet,” Jenny asked sympathetically.

 

“Bit of an understatement,” Quinn grunted. He had hoped their discussion at Thanksgiving might have paved the way for better relations, but Owen had kept his distance since. One step forward, two steps back. “Poor Sam and Martha are caught in the middle. They love both their sons.” 

 

“Of course, they do,” his mother soothed. “But I’m sure he’ll come around in time, dear.”

 

“I hope so, Mum. There’s been the odd moment, but still…”

 

“I’d love to meet them,” Jenny ventured. 

 

“I’m sure they’d like that, too,” Quinn said politely, hoping it was true. 

 

“Well, then, let’s make it happen, shall we?” Jenny said briskly. “Because I was *also* calling to see if you’d be open to a visit next week. I’d love to see you both, and I wanted to do some Christmas shopping.”

 

“Of course!” Quinn’s bad mood evaporated. “Ye know ye’re always welcome. Shall I be makin’ ye a reservation at the Melbourne, or would ye like to be stayin’ with us this time? We hae a guest room now,” he added proudly.

 

Her silvery laughter rang over the line. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart, but I wouldn’t want to intrude on your ‘honeymoon phase.’ The Melbourne will be lovely. See if you can get one of the suites that faces the park.”

 

“Consider it done,” her son confirmed. “And I *will* be pickin’ ye up at the airport this time.”

 

She laughed indulgently. “Of course, you will, my love.”

 

“We’ll be settin’ it up for ye to be meetin’ the Kensingtons while ye’re here. Hae to be runnin’, hae a lab in a few minutes. Love to the clan.”

 

“Cheers, darling.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Quinn opened the garage door, whistling happily. Ben glanced up from the sofa, where he was working on his laptop. 

 

“You’re in a good mood this evening,” he remarked, as Quinn leaned in for a kiss.

 

“I am,” Quinn agreed. “Mum called this morning. She’s coming over for a visit next week.”

 

“Awesome!” Ben exclaimed. “Are the girls coming, too?”

 

“No, Gwen and Reina are up to their eyeballs with holiday parties and such. Hard to believe the year’s nearly gone.”

 

Ben nodded. Halloween the year before had been their first time together, following the Dean’s campus-wide party at Sydney Hall. They’d celebrated their anniversary with Quinn’s homemade spaghetti and a bottle of cheap Chianti, then made love in front of the fireplace…

 

Oops. Quinn was looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, love. Say again?”

 

“A wee bit off in the clouds, yeah? Wasn’t I sayin’ it’d be nice for Mum and yer folks to be meetin’ while she’s here?”

 

Ben grinned. “They’ll love Jenny.” Then he wagged an admonishing finger. “Now, you’re sure she’s coming *next* week? Not yesterday, or week after next? Remember what happened last time.”

 

Quinn laughed. “Aye, I’m sure, ye wee devil. She’s arrivin’ Monday afternoon, and I’ll be pickin’ her up at the airport and takin’ her to the hotel. Jim can handle my late lab that day.  
So, give everybody a call and set something up, yeah? She’ll be here through Sunday next.”

 

“*Everybody*? You mean…”

 

Quinn nodded. “It’d be rude not to include Owen and Beryl, yeah? If they decline, it’s their loss, but we’ll have made the effort.”

 

“Okay,” Ben said skeptically. 

 

“Good deal. I’ll just go hunt us up some supper.”

 

Once Quinn was safely out of the room, Ben texted Jenny to confirm her travel plans. When she had visited in the spring, Quinn had written it down wrong on his calendar. She’d arrived without notice on the front doorstep while Ben was up to his armpits rewiring the brownstone. It had taken her about thirty seconds to figure out he and her son were romantically involved. They’d taken to each other immediately, and he had relished the shock and awe on Quinn’s face when he came home to find them in the living room sofa, sharing confidences at his expense. 

 

From her tongue-in-cheek response, she was unsurprised, but appreciated the check-up. They agreed to allow Quinn continue to think he had the situation under control.

 

~*~*~*~ 

 

“Hi, Mom, it’s Ben. How are you?”

 

“Good, dear. How’s Quinn? 

 

“We’re great, thanks. Listen, Quinn’s mother is coming over from Ballymena next week, and we’d like to have everybody over for dinner while she’s here. We were thinking maybe Wednesday evening.”

 

“Oh, how nice! Mrs. Donovan was so kind while your father was laid up. Let me check with your dad; he’s just getting back to work, and I’m not sure of his schedule. I’ll give you a call back, okay?”

 

“Okay.” He hesitated, then, “Could you, um, give Beryl a call? I… we’d like to invite them, too.”

 

“Of course, honey.” She didn’t even sound surprised. “I’m sure they’d love to come.”

 

Yeah, right, Ben thought. Interested in some cheap oceanfront property in Arizona? Owen would probably rather have his nuts amputated, without anesthesia. But he’d promised Quinn they’d make the effort. “Thanks, Mom.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Martha called back the next day, and said she and Sam would love to come to dinner Wednesday at the brownstone. They looked forward to meeting Jenny, and spending some quality family time together. She would bring dessert.

 

Unfortunately, Owen and Beryl would be unable to attend. Ben expressed disappointment, but was secretly relieved. He’d enjoy the evening a lot more without his brother there. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Big red letters on the refrigerator calendar: “MEETING OF THE MOMS.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Jenny emailed Ben, offering to do any shopping before she came over. Waterford was holding its annual holiday sale. Knowing his mother’s love of Irish crystal, Ben had been kicking himself for not having thought to bring any back from their trip in August. 

He and Quinn had purchased matching Aran fishermen’s sweaters in the O’Donovan pattern. Ben had picked up hand-knit mufflers for his father and Owen, and a scale model of the RMS Titanic for Luke from the museum in Belfast. They’d bought intricate Irish lace collars for Beryl and Martha, and Connemara jade earrings for Adele. 

 

Jenny suggested a Waterford Christmas ornament, or perhaps some stemware, tactfully adding that it was less expensive locally than in the States. Ben gratefully asked her to use her best judgment and give him the bill. 

 

Now he just had to figure out what to get Quinn. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Mum! Over here!” Quinn called.

 

“Darling! You *made* it!” Jenny Donovan laughed as her son enveloped her in a bear hug. “Ben must have reminded you I was arriving today,” she teased.

 

Quinn grinned. “I’m gettin’ a wee bit better at writin’ things down,” he joked. “And don’t for a second think I dinna know you two were in cahoots behind me back!” He looped her arm through his, and they made their way toward the baggage claim area. “Ye look grand, Mum,” Quinn commented. “New hairstyle, isn’t it?”

 

“It is,” his mother agreed. “Reina and Gwen send their love.”

 

“Right back at ’em,” Quinn replied automatically. “And how are Molly and Pete? Are you a great-Gran yet?”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise anyone if they made an announcement soon,” his mother replied. “They’ve bought a house in town, in walking distance to Pete’s office. They’re so happy together; it’s a joy watching them.” 

 

“Tell them I’m expectin’ to be hearin’ the pitter-patter of little feet the next time I’m there.”

 

“Darling, by the time *you* come around again, any child of theirs will be ready for university,” his mother admonished. “Don’t you think you could make it just a bit sooner next time?”

 

“Yes, Mum,” Quinn said obediently. “New Year’s resolution.” He crossed his heart. “Tell ‘em I’m expectin’ to be named godfather to their first. I’ll *hae* to be comin’ over for the christening, yeah?”

 

“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” Jenny said, with a smile. “And will I be meeting Ben’s parents while I’m here?”

 

Quinn nodded. “We thought we’d have a nice family dinner at the house, the lot of us. I can do steaks on the grill. Or would you rather go to a restaurant?”

 

“It sounds lovely,” she assured him. “I’m looking forward to meeting the Kensingtons. They’ve raised a fine son.”

 

“Aye, that they have,” Quinn agreed, then stared at the luggage coming up the ramp. “Mother of God, Mum, did ye bring the entire house with ye? Are ye thinkin’ of relocatin’?” 

 

Jenny shook her head. “You great ninny. Didn’t I tell you I planned to do some Christmas shopping while I was here? Obviously, I needed to be sure I had enough room left going back.” 

 

With grumbled complaints about overly enthusiastic packers, her son loaded the trolley and they turned for the exit. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Quinn escorted his mother to her hotel suite. There was a bouquet of flowers on the dresser, and a bottle of her favorite wine chilling in the small refrigerator. Jenny watched indulgently as he fiddled with the thermostat, inventoried the towel supply in the bathroom and pronounced the mattress satisfactory. Then she shooed him out the door, pleading jet lag and a longing for a bubble bath and an early bedtime. Remembering all too well the impact of a five-hour time difference on a tired body, Quinn didn’t argue. 

 

He left orders at the front desk for fresh flowers to be delivered daily, and that all amenities were to be billed to his credit card. The concierge assured him that everything would be handled as requested. Lady Genevieve Quinntrell Donovan was a preferred customer.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Wednesday evening, Quinn picked Jenny up at her hotel on his way home from class. Ben gave her a big hug, then settled her on the sofa with a glass of wine. 

 

“I hope you’ll be pleased with my gift choices, Ben,” Jenny said, reaching into her purse. “I’ve already wrapped them for you, but I wanted you to see.” She handed him several color pictures. 

 

There was a delicate hand-blown perfume bottle in a lovely shade of deep violet, and a small domed Waterford crystal clock, perfect for a vanity or bedside table. “They’re great, Jenny, thank you,” he enthused. “Mom *loves* purple. And the clock is beautiful.” 

 

“I’m so glad,” Jenny replied. “It came in other colors, but that one was exceptional. And for your father,” she handed him another picture. “Every student of Irish history deserves his own decanter set.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Ben breathed. “Dad kids Mom about having a thing for Waterford, but he’ll go crazy over this.” He reached into his pocket for his checkbook. “What do I owe you?”

 

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Jenny handed him the invoice. 

 

An understatement. It was less than half of what he’d been expecting. “This can’t be right, Jenny,” he stammered. “Who’d you have to kill?”

 

Jenny laughed. “I told you, dear, Waterford is *much* cheaper over there, even when it’s not on sale.”

 

Quinn echoed his mother’s sentiment. “Most of the mark-up is for export. Remember the sweaters and stuff we got in Dublin?”

 

“And here I thought they were just marked down because it was the middle of the summer,” Ben joked. 

 

“If either of you needs anything else before Christmas, just let me know,” Jenny said. “The sale’s on for another several days, and I can always send one of the girls.”

 

“I think we’re good, thanks, Mum. And you hardly need an excuse to indulge,” Quinn said affectionately. “Why shouldn’t ye hae whatever Waterford ye desire? Or anything else, for that matter?”

 

“One should avoid appearing ostentatious,” his mother said primly, but her blue eyes twinkled over her wine glass.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The Kensingtons arrived promptly at 6:00, with Martha’s homemade chocolate cake. Beryl had called earlier to thank them for the invitation, and apologized again that she and Owen couldn’t be there. She actually managed to sound sincere.

 

Martha and Jenny hit it off at once. Sam fervently repeated his thanks for the loan of Joseph Donovan’s books, and Jenny assured him it was a treat to have someone getting the use out of her Joseph’s library. Quinn fielded drink orders from the breakfront.

 

“Tell me, Jenny,” Martha said, as they settled on the sofa with a platter of fresh vegetables and Martha’s cream-cheese-and-garlic dip. “Do you get over to the States often?”

 

“I was here last in the spring,” Jenny replied. “That was when I had the pleasure of meeting your son for the first time.” She smiled. “Thanks to this absent-minded professor of mine, I’m afraid I caught Ben a bit off his guard, but he was a perfect gentleman.”

 

Ben grinned. “I can still see the look on Quinn’s face when he walked in and saw you. I thought his jaw would go through the floor.”

 

“He wrote the date down wrong on his calendar,” Jenny confided. “So, of course he wasn’t at the airport when I arrived. But Ben made certain he knew when to be there this time. He’s a treasure.” She gave him a warm smile. 

 

Sam and Martha beamed, while Ben felt himself blushing under their outspoken approval. “Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he drawled, “t’weren’t nuthin’.”

 

“And they came over in August for your granddaughter’s wedding?” Martha continued.

 

Jenny nodded. “The weather was nothing short of a miracle. Quinn stood in for Molly’s father, God rest his soul.” She reached for the framed picture on the end table. “Such fine-looking sons we have,” Jenny added, as hers leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her cheek. 

 

“I love that picture,” Martha agreed. “They both look like something right out of a travel magazine. Those are the Donovan clan colors?”

 

“They’re the County Antrim ancient colors,” Quinn explained, “and as our family has lived there for generations, they’re ours as well, for all intents and purposes.”

 

“Real men wear kilts,” Ben quipped.

 

“Indeed, they do,” Jenny agreed, with a warm smile. 

 

“Sam, can I freshen up your drink?” Quinn asked, holding up the whiskey decanter. 

 

Sam held out his glass, and Quinn added another couple of fingers. Then he made his way to the hall and turned to face the room.

 

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be taking yours orders for steaks. We’ll be ready to eat in about ten minutes.” 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Martha followed Quinn down the hall to the kitchen. “Quinn, can I help with anything?” she asked.

 

Quinn smiled. “Thanks, Martha, but I think everything’s under control. Steaks are easy. We’ve baked potatoes and a green salad, and your brilliant cake for dessert. You know I can’t say no to your baked goodies.”

 

“Your mother is a delight. I know you must miss seeing her.”

 

Quinn nodded. “Ben’s recently introduced us to Skype. I might get to see my nieces and nephews more than once a generation now. Makes me feel a wee bit less of a relic.”

 

“You’re not a relic,” Martha said gently. “Not everyone lives and breathes technology. You and Ben complement each other. That’s as it should be.”

 

Quinn picked up the platter of steaks. “My humble thanks, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw these bad boys on the fire.”

 

Martha picked up the salad bowl and dressing and carried them into the dining room. She paused to admire the crystal and china, the crisp linen tablecloth and matching napkins. The burled walnut buffet glowed in the light of the brass chandelier. The overall effect was of understated elegance. Having met Jenny, she had a better appreciation for Quinn’s Old World mannerisms. And what she saw, she liked very much.

 

“Hey, Quinn, we’re starving,” came her son’s voice from the hall. “Do we pass muster, Mom?” he asked, with a grin, as he approached.

 

“Everything is perfectly beautiful,” she replied. “That chandelier is magnificent.”

 

“Quinn found it at a garage sale, shortly after he bought this place. It was absolutely black with tarnish, from a house flood,” Jenny explained, as Sam held her chair for her. Ben seated his mother, then took his place at the foot of the table. 

 

“It was absolutely horrendous, but he was convinced it could be resurrected,” Jenny continued. “I was sure he’d electrocute himself.”

 

“The whole house is full of stuff like that,” Ben added. “You should see him work over an antique seller. He’s a shark. You saw the mantel in the living room? It’s a two-hundred-year-old floor beam. From *Tuscany*.”

 

Jenny beamed. “You’ve obviously caught the bug, Ben. I pity anyone who has to take on the two of you.”

 

“I’m not in his league, Jenny,” Ben replied. “Anyway, it’s more fun to wind him up and sic him on the unsuspecting. And no matter how hard I try to guess the final price, he usually brings back the change.” 

 

“Am I being burned in effigy again?” Quinn asked, entering the room with a platter of steaming steaks. “Me poor ears are burnin’ hotter than these steers.” He smoothly dished out each person’s choice, then took his seat. “Mum, would you be givin’ us a blessing?”

 

Everyone joined hands and bowed their heads. Jenny spoke softly, thanking the Lord for their food, health and fellowship. She and Quinn crossed themselves, then serving dishes began to make their way around the table.

 

~*~*~*~

 

After dinner, they adjourned to the living room for tea and coffee and Martha’s chocolate cake. Jenny blissfully closed her eyes at the first bite. “Oh, my, that is pure heaven on a fork. Martha, you must give me the recipe.” Martha promised to send it to her. 

 

Jenny had brought along a DVD of the wedding. As Ben’s flat-screen television was upstairs in the master bedroom, he retrieved Quinn’s monitor from his study and connected it to his laptop. His mother kept repeating how beautiful everything was, and what a lovely bride Molly had been. Sam pored over the details of the men’s formal kilts. Quinn patiently answered his questions, then brought his outfit (and Ben’s matching cummerbund) downstairs for closer inspection. 

 

At the end of the pleasant evening, Sam and Martha offered to drive Jenny back to her hotel. Quinn and Ben made quick work of the clean-up. Ben showed Quinn the pictures of the Christmas gifts Jenny had picked up for him. Judging from his reaction to the decanter set, Ben was tempted to ask Jenny to pick up another set for the brownstone. If not for Christmas, maybe for Quinn’s birthday in the spring.

 

~*~*~*~

 

All too soon, it seemed, Jenny was preparing to return to Ballymena. Ben wished she wasn’t so far away; he’d grown very fond of his partner’s mother. Due to their hectic work schedules, they’d not been able to spend nearly enough time with her. She’d gone shopping with Adele, and the two of them had apparently cleaned out the stores. Quinn had given his mother his credit card, and seemed well pleased with her choices. By mutual consent, his traditional gift to her was a donation to her favorite charity in Northern Ireland.

 

The night before she was to leave, Quinn and Ben took her out to dinner. She brought along a large tote bag, which Quinn took from her, frowning at its weight. She cautioned him to be careful with it, but declined to say anything more.

 

After dinner, they came back to the brownstone. Ben presented her with a DVD of pictures of himself and Quinn, together and separately, along with photos of Adele, Bernini and a few of his family, interspersed with snapshots from their vacation in August, set to music. It closed with a videotaped wish from the two of them for a wonderful holiday season, and a standing invitation to come and visit. Jenny wiped her eyes with Quinn’s handkerchief, and hugged both of “her lads.” “It’s beautiful, Ben, all of it,” she said, with a happy sigh. “I’ll treasure it.”

 

From the tote bag, Jenny brought out two gift-wrapped boxes. She explained that while they would have to wait until Christmas for most of their gifts, she’d like them to open these while she was there. 

 

The larger of the two was heavy, and she cautioned again that it was fragile. Quinn set it carefully on the coffee table and cut the ribbons with his pocket knife. The Waterford seahorse emblem gracing each of the seven smaller boxes inside gave him pause, and he glanced at his mother, as if to say, “What did you do?” She merely smiled and gestured for him to keep going.

 

Each box held an intricately detailed crystal building, the largest less than six inches in size. There was a bake shop, a hotel, a school, a surgery, a steepled church, a post office and a thatched cottage. Jenny explained to Ben that they were inspired by the Irish village of Lismore. Quinn commented that he had coveted the set since it had first been released, but had always managed to restrain himself from indulging. When he protested the extravagance, Jenny told him to hush. This was the Donovans’ Christmas gift to the pair of them, a bit of Erin to keep them longing for another visit “across the pond.” Ben couldn’t imagine a more perfect gift, and said as much. 

 

The second gift was about the size of a shirt box, also containing multiple individually wrapped smaller packages. Picking one at random, Quinn opened it, then sucked in his breath, rendered speechless for a second time. 

 

Ben craned his neck to see. 

 

Jenny smiled.

 

It was a hand-carved wooden figurine of a genuflecting Virgin Mary, head bowed and hands crossed over her breast. Quinn set the box on the table and gestured to Ben to help him open the bundles. Ben unwrapped an upright man in robes and a crown. When all was said and done, there was the Holy Family, the three kings, a kneeling shepherd with a flock of sheep in various poses, a donkey and a cow. The manger was a simple hollowed out oval. The figures ranged from less than an inch to about six inches tall. 

 

Taped to the inside of the box top was an envelope, with a folded note featuring a sketch of St. James Catholic Church in Ballymena. Father Mick wished Quinn and Ben a blessed and joyous Christmas season, and looked forward to their next visit. A postscript admonished that the shepherd belonged with the sheep, and not opposite Mary at the manger. For the benefit of certain irreverent aging men with failing eyesight, Joseph’s pose mirrored that of his wife, Mary.

 

Quinn read the message aloud, and he and his mother broke into laughter. “He has a long memory,” Jenny said, blue eyes twinkling. She explained to Ben that as a child, Quinn would sneak into the living room after his parents were asleep, and rearrange the figures in the Donovan nativity. “Poor Mary never knew from one day to the next who would be on the other side of the manger. His father finally put them up on the mantel, out of his reach. At least until his next growth spurt.”

 

Ben chuckled. “Sounds like you, Quinn,” he agreed. “Jenny, did Mick carve them himself? It must have taken him hours.” 

 

“He did,” Jenny affirmed. “He has a true gift. And he recommended soaking them in boiled linseed oil, and storing them in an airtight container.” 

 

Quinn moved the figurines around the table, lost in memories of Christmases past. Jenny and Ben left him to it, and began clearing a shelf in the breakfront for the new Waterford collection.

 

~end~


End file.
